Eir's Frustration
by AnthrimaJoker
Summary: Empathy and the drive to stop the pain of others, especially those she held the closest to her heart, was both her Gift and her Curse. When Frigga's death makes its quick way to Loki, Eir pays him a visit.
1. Eir's Mercy

**A/N: Just a short bit about Loki. And, since  
this is a series based around Norse deities,  
I thought I'd throw in Eir, one of my favorites.  
Thoughts, anyone?**

**Chapter One: Eir's Mercy**

* * *

People were bustling about as the dust settled over Asgard. She could feel the dead, the dying, wounded, grieving, and disturbed. Her heart ached with her body, something the woman had learned to tolerate over the centuries. Being able to literally _feel_ the pain of others made it so much easier to heal them, but there was no turning it off. She could only focus, much like Heimdall could focus on many things and one thing as he so desired. It helped keep her sane. (When it wasn't giving her the headache of the century.)

One death, however, took all of her focus and broke her heart. The queen's body was on the ground before her, growing ever-colder. "Frigga," she whispered, hand over her heart as she bowed her head. She knelt and placed that hand on the deceased queen's chest, running it gently over the gorgeous fabric of her clothes. She could have stopped it. Eir could wake the dead, bring her back and heal her wounds. It was part of her Gift. The first trickle of magic gathered at the ends of her fingertips, prepared to do her will, but she stopped herself. She wanted so badly to bring back the woman that was as close to a mother as Eir would ever have had, to stop the raging flood of pain that gripped her breast and sank in her stomach like stones.

She controlled many a thing: healing, life and death - to some extent. She had a light touch with the shadows and learned much from the mountain cats that surrounded her home. She knew a small amount of illusion magic that Frigga had taught the young Eir, herself. Any of that could have been used to help save dearest Frigga.

A shadow-hand touched her shoulder, the familiar caress of a soul as it passed by. She looked up and saw the shimmery veil of Frigga's soul, still lingering a few moments after death. The ghost smiled, and none of the vitality contained within her waking grin had been lost by death. "Peace, my child." Her voice was not one heard with ears, but bones. "Death is naught but change, and change is neither good nor bad. How you perceive it makes it so."

A winged woman, solemn expression all that gave away her sadness, seemed to flow into the room. Eir couldn't remember the stranger's name, only that the Valkyrie had been around since before Eir was born. The woman gave a passing nod to Eir, then spoke in quiet, soothing tones to Frigga.

Eir pulled her hand away from the queen, using it instead to cover her full, dark mouth. A shudder wracked her body for a moment. Trumpets sounded somewhere in the distance, people going about their business behind her. The Valkyries, the families, the warriors, everyone could weep freely for the dead queen. Eir would not.

She ignored the people that gathered to talk, to grieve. She didn't dare reign in the stubborn queen's soul - as much as the healer would have liked to. When the Time came, it came. And no good ever came from trying to keep it at bay.

* * *

He was still in the prison when she came looking, after tending to those that asked for her help. She could feel his pain, the smothered rage and grief. Fixing him was as easy as a simple twist of her magic. She could heal his spirit, the cuts on his feet, the places where his raw hands had beaten and thrown and crushed and torn everything he could grab. There was no need to see him; she could feel his anguish (actually sort it out from everyone else's) from the top of the stairwell.

Eir focused on him and on his pain, though didn't relieve him of it. Where his foot ached (between the first and second toe on his left foot), hers did as well. Where his chest felt empty and weak and cold, so did her own. The rest of Asgard within her Gift's reach faded into harmless background fuzz. And when she found her old friend - if he could have been called a friend - Loki was pacing his cell.

So it appeared.

He stepped and his foot didn't throb. Where there should have been scratchy burns and tiny cuts on his hands, his pale skin was pristine. They didn't pound as he loosened and tightened his fists. There was no blood in the cell, nor marks of magic or any other evidence of his exhaustion. This Loki was calm, prim, and proper. Pacing back and forth like an impatient lion.

"Come to visit me yet again, Eir?" He stopped in front of her but kept his body turned away. "Shouldn't you be tending to the wounded? From what I heard, there are several that are dead and dying." Then he faced her, brilliant green eyes like daggers waiting to dive into flesh. "Shouldn't you be bringing your noble warriors back to life?" The implication of his mother being the warrior he had in mind did not escape her. The tall man bent a bit at the waist, peering down through the yellow-tinged barrier.

Eir ran an unsteady hand through her red-blonde hair. She extended her magic a bit and felt at the man before her. The barrier was no concern. The bracers around her wrists made sure of that. They were pure gold, adorned with emerald-green leaves that seemed to thrum with their own life. After a particularly bad incident in the prison cells, Eir had demanded a way to get in, or at least allow her magic in. Finally Frigga convinced Odin to have the bracers made, and Eir was able to mend the wounded and broken after they were imprisoned.

This man was not Loki. There was nothing there to feel. It was just a shadow-image of the man she felt in pain. "Enough, friend," she commanded, though it came out more as a suggestion. "Such tricks may work on Thor or the Allfather, but I know you better."

His exhaustion won out over his stubbornness in the half-beat that followed. For the first time in ages, he listened to her. The illusion dropped, and she was shown the room exactly as she'd imagined. His table was overturned, as was a broken chair. Books were strewn about with blotted pages ripped from them, and bloody half-prints were on the floor leading to where he sat.

And there, in all his ugliness and beauty, was Loki. His hair was greasy and unkempt, his feet bare, his formal garb thrown aside in preference of his green tunic and black cotton pants. His eyes were dull, poised somewhere between pleading for death and aching to kill. This was the Loki she felt in her bones, that she bled and suffered with. Just as she suffered with all the others she'd passed on her way down. "So, instead of doing your job, you've come to find me. And for what? Escape? To shove in my face that I've finally lost everything? To pretend you feel-"

She snarled and pressed her hands against the barrier. The bracers around her wrists glowed, the leaves adorning them writhing and appearing to grow thorns. Her magic wasn't a hostile thing; it was a state of being. And she loosed that being onto Loki without warning. All 676 deaths, all 1,902 injuries, the 2,004 grieving, and all 7,902 emotionally caught off guard. The plants that were dead, the animals suffering or gone, the stupid fish that were disturbed and terrorized, every bit of pain within a ten-mile radius, he felt in one second. He howled in agony and surprise, grabbing his chest with one arm and head with the other hand. He leaned forward, clenching his jaw and gut.

She knew she was hurting him, which went against her nature when she was calm, but Eir was far from calm. So much agony inflicted on the city in a matter of minutes, Frigga's death, the grief of others, it all gave her a massive migraine. She made sure he felt his own pain, specifically, more than anything else. Eir showed it to him, the damage done to his soul over centuries, and magnified it. He bared his teeth as he groaned, and then it was gone. After a little huffing, he closed his thin lips. "What I feel, dear Loki, is someone who suffered a great deal over many years, augmented by the loss of our queen and your mother. One made even more so by the fact he will miss her funeral this evening." The glare on her face made a clear statement of its own: "Don't _ever_ imply that I don't _know_ what you feel."

He stared up at her through thick, raven locks. "And what makes you think I want to see it?"

"She wasn't your birth mother," Eir started as she crossed her arms over her middle, and he seemed a bit surprised that she knew as much. "But that didn't mean she wasn't _your_ mother." He waited, and she took a moment to look him over. Eir was known throughout the nine realms for her mercy, but also that she was a healer and protector. Mercy would have taken him to watch the funeral pyres. It may even have helped him heal his emotional and spiritual wounds. But it would also have been directly endangering Asgard, and whoever Loki targeted. Not to mention her own technical treason.

"Well?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

Taking a deep breath, she opened herself up for trouble. "I will take you, and I will bring you back directly after."

He smirked, something both pleased and empty. "And you expect me to come back willingly?"

"No."


	2. Eir's Deviation

**A/N: Ah, this I am much more happy with.**  
**And this is by far the longest chapter I**  
**have posted to date. I'd greatly appreciate**  
**reviews on this. A lot of work was put into**  
**this rewrite.**

**Chapter Two: Eir's Deviation**

* * *

Eir glared into her closet, knowing the funeral started in little over three hours. Clothes were strewn about the floor in heaps of silk, cotton, and supple leather. "I don't know," she growled into the armoire, pushing around empty hangers. Few things remained hung up: a dress she hadn't worn in decades, a set of maille made more for the battlefield than a funeral, and-

She paused when her gaze caught the shimmer of gold silk. The other bits of clothing were pushed aside without care. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, a smile creeping across her lips. "Yes, this is sufficient."

After stripping and donning the light, comfortable attire, Eir stood before a floor-length mirror. The top was a wide shawl draped over one arm and tied beneath the other. The skirt hung from her rounded hips and ended mid-calf, held in place by an emerald-studded belt. Her chosen necklace was an emerald and gold piece that started at her throat and worked its way down to her collarbones. Out of habit, the bracers stayed in place on her thin wrists, and she slipped on a set of heels for good measure.

Warriors would be wearing their armor, but she had no love for armor. Eir stayed far away from battle when she could, unless Odin demanded otherwise. Yes, she took pride in healing and doing her job; she was _useful_ in battle. However, she was comfortable in her silks and gems. She was raised as a maiden of Frigga, and that's how she was going to appear at the funeral. As a finishing touch, she pulled her hair back in a tight braid.

Eir hesitated at the door to her chambers, unsteady. Her head was still pounding from the goings-on of earlier. If she was caught freeing Loki, she would be imprisoned at best. A shudder started in her neck and worked down through her shoulders. "Better not get caught, then."

_A mountain cat had curled up beside Eir, purring like a stampede of giants. His golden fur was thick, bristly, and warm in the Asgardian winter. Her hand rested between his shoulders, massaging healing magic into his muscles. She was swiftly learning more and more, and her dear friend seemed content to be used for practice. "Sven," she started. His ears perked, but eyes remained closed. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard today. I should have been more careful." Her pale hand moved up his neck, finding the sweet spot behind his jaw._

_Sven lifted his massive head and rumbled louder. The cat wasn't wounded in the least, although exhaustion was obvious in the way he had walked after training. She was getting better at sorting out what she was feeling, whether it was really her own pain or sickness, or someone else's. Healing wasn't as easy. Her skills needed more refinement, awareness to be widened outside of a few meters, but she was getting better. Eir leaned against her companion, sighing. He mimicked her, and one of his ears flicked back as if he'd heard something._

_"What am I going to do with them?" she asked, closing her eyes and burying her face in his neck. Sven tolerated her, so long as she didn't stop scratching. The boys had been on knives' edges for weeks, vicious to the point of not being able to dine together. "One doesn't think before he acts, and the other thinks before everything. And Odin won't get off his high horse for anything. Thor's friends are no help." her mouth twisted. "Men are stupid."_

_The cat paused his thunderous purr, opening one eye and peering down at her. A whisker twitched._

_"I certainly hope you don't mean that."_

_The girl nearly jumped out of her skin. Vibrant blue eyes glared into his as she craned her head back. Loki, tall and thin enough to make most girls envious, was grinning at her as he stepped closer. Sven, aware of the newcomer, laid his head on his paws to express his boredom. "What are you doing out here?" Eir's face was tinged red. She'd been caught._

_He shrugged, though that complacent grin never faltered. "Walking. Am I not allowed that simple pleasure?"_

_Mentally cursing her friend's choice of words (Sven tilted his head at her and flared his nostrils for a moment), Eir went back to the task of massaging her mount. "I can think of something you are allowed: to bring me a cup of tea. This is tiring work."_

_"Tiring work?" Loki barked a laugh, shaking his head. "You're petting your cat. How much does that drain you?"_

_She faced Loki and rested her hand on Sven's head - still making small circles with her fingers. "You know how much my magic costs me. And I have to keep at it or I'll never get better." A wistful sigh passed her full, red lips. She smiled as Sven rubbed his head against her face. "Maybe one day I'll be able to do it with only a thought. Like you with your doppelgangers."_

_Loki grinned, sitting down beside her._

_Sven felt it absolutely necessary to force himself between the two, laying down with most of his weight against Eir. The girl laughed, vigorously scratching the back of his neck. The prince was mildly less amused._

_Time passed between them like that: Eir preoccupied with Sven, Loki with a book he pulled from his vest. They were at ease with the passive company, neither one needing to strain with small talk or attempts to actually do anything. The air grew colder as the sun descended past the trees. Lone stars dotted the sky. The final vestiges of pink and orange were fading when the quiet was broken. __"I could teach you," Loki stated as he flipped another page. Darkness was falling rapidly on the pair in their silence. Strangely, it didn't hinder the budding sorcerer's reading in the least._

_She looked up from where her face was buried in the mountain cat's neck. Apparently she had fallen asleep reviewing healing magic and possible alternate uses for the things she already knew. "Teach me what?" It was obvious from the thickness of her voice that she was fending off the need to return to sleep._

_"Illusion magic. It's very simple."_

_A slow, easy laugh bubbled up from her belly and rang like a silver bell in Loki's ears. "I doubt I'd have you teach me anything, especially magic."_

_"What?" He smiled impishly, resting his open book on his lap. "Don't you trust me?"_

Outside Odin's fortress, Eir dismounted Sven. The feline was nearly as tall as she at this point and appeared as vicious as any others that surrounded her mountain-home. In the darkness of night, his coat took on a bluish hue. He rumbled as she scratched behind his ear, enjoying such affection after the short ride to the keep. "I'll be back soon," she murmured to him. He nudged her hand before she turned away, purring as if he were still a cub.

The halls were empty, as was appropriate so close to time. A few guards had stayed behind to stand watch, but there were no vast groups of sentinels . Aside from the occasional flicker of a light, the keep was still. Gilded heels clicked softly on the floor as she weaved through endless passageways that brought her to the underground prison.

Jarl, a guard Eir wasn't terribly well-acquainted with, greeted her at the bottom of the stairwell. "Evening, Lady Eir." He was close to her age, stocky, and had a charming smile. She did her best to return the smile in kind. "What brings you here so late? The pyres will be lit, soon, you know?"

"I know," she nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But I left a very important book and couldn't just leave it over night."

"Ah, I see." Despite his statement, his face still scrunched up a bit. "Though it really isn't safe to be wandering around alone this late."

There was a rough banging sound from one of the cells. "Someone," a voice croaked. "I need help!"

Eir turned her head as the guard raised his spear. "What's going on?" she asked. Subtly she checked her wrists from the corner of her eye, ensuring her magic stayed in place. Where her bracers had been were only patches of bare - albeit yellow-tinged - skin. Her illusion magic was nowhere near perfect, even on a good day, but it was passable for the moment.

"I'm not sure," Jarl muttered. He led the way down the hall, passing half-filled cells and sleeping inmates.

Loki's cell was till torn apart. The blood on the floor had dried and turned an ugly brown. The books were stacked in a far corner, a few pages still out of place beside the stack. And the young prince was a shaking heap on the floor. His skin had taken a grayish hue. His face seemed even more gaunt, sunken eyes bloodshot from pain. "Please," he whined as he looked up at both Jarl and Eir.

Immediately she knelt before the barrier, hand pressed against it. "Let me in. He needs help," she demanded.

He stepped closer, but made no move to draw down the barrier. "I thought your magic wasn't hindered by the cell."

"My bracers are in my chambers." Her eyes were hard as stone when he met them. "Otherwise I would have fixed him by now."

It was obvious Jarl didn't want to open the cell. Who would have when the occupant was considered the most dangerous sorcerer in Asgard? Still, he didn't enjoy watching Loki writhe in pain and fear on the floor. He cast another look at the healer and relented. "Just make it quick."

The moment the glowing tip of Jarl's spear touched the barrier, it began to dissolve into amber dust. "Hold a moment," he started as Eir moved toward her friend. She sucked in a breath, suddenly doubting the whole plan again. He stepped inside and slapped a pair of cuffs on the prisoner before stepping back. She hoped he didn't notice the slight flicker of magic where their flesh met. "There. Now you can do your... Thing."

Eir crawled inside and rested Loki's head in her lap. "You'll be alright," she whispered. The sincerity with which she said the words came as a bit of a surprise, but the prince didn't seem to care. Instead of working her magic to heal him, she focused on him. She didn't want to take too much notice of the guard when Loki-

He released a pulse of magic the moment Jarl's back was turned and sent the guard flying face first into a wall. Eir flinched. Sometime between getting into the cell and then, the illusion around her wrists had faded. The sound of armor on stone was louder than he would have liked, but there wasn't any time to waste. They had to get out before Jarl woke up.

They made their exodus as quickly as possible. Eir escorted Prince Loki down the last of the many great halls, knowing very well he wasn't foolish enough to attempt escape while cuffed. To anyone that looked, however, she was walking alongside her loyal - albeit temperamental - Sven. The mount had growled and bared his teeth. "Hush," she chided him after one of the guards plodded past. Having Loki bound left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, like ale past its day. How she ached for the day she could trust him again.

One of the guards they passed stopped and turned around. "Hey," he called.

Eir froze, but didn't face him. Not-Loki padded a few more steps and stopped.

"I don't remember seeing Sven with you."

"Oh, you know." A nervous laugh slipped past her mouth before she thought better of it. "You won't see a cat that doesn't want to be seen. After all, he _was_ one of Freya's."

"Ah, that makes sense."

An awkward silence was beginning to fall when Not-Loki swished his tail. "I'm sorry, but I've got to be going. They're expecting me at the falls."

"Very well. Good evening, Lady Eir."

Another minute ticked by before she spoke again. "We don't any need any more attention brought to us. It's bad enough I'm committing a crime. If we're caught and this is deemed treason, we're dead." Eir was speaking more to herself than the prince, grumbling under her breath.

"I'm a giant cougar," he muttered. "My cell is empty, and you're wearing..." He trailed off, looking at her through the corner of his eye. "That."

Her brows knit together. "That?! What do you mean, _That_?" The healer waited until they passed two guards posted at the entrance to the throne room. "There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!" She managed to whisper and yell at the same time.

_'Sven's'_ head bobbed. "Of course there isn't." Loki stole another glance. Eir's hair - which appeared more flame-red than strawberry blonde - was pulled back in a braid that ended just below her hips. With the flashy gold of her attire and the way the silk flowed as she moved, it was a wonder guards hadn't mistaken her for nobility and taken post around _her_. "I just said it attracted attention."


End file.
